AUTISM: A POEM
. . . . . X. Night of the Diagnosis
Daylight faded to black hours ago.
. . . . . Now, I notice a single star light
the summer sky the way one silver
. . . . . earring glistens when a woman’s
hand lightly brushes back her hair.
. . . . . In this stillness, I sit and listen
to windless silence while my wife
. . . . . and son sleep, the invisible vines
twisting like twine in the darkened
. . . . . garden, where tomatoes and red
peppers continue their slow growth
. . . . . unseen in an act that constitutes
some secret counter to the chaos
. . . . . we will all witness with sunrise.
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